


Bittersweet Taste

by StarTravel



Series: Defiance Through Tenderness [15]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Communication, Cuddling & Snuggling, Feelings Realization, Internal Conflict Resolution, Introspection, Miscommunication, Non-Consensual Drug Use, POV Julian Bashir, Platonic Kissing, Truth Serum, Unreliable Narrator, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-27
Updated: 2018-12-27
Packaged: 2019-09-28 20:05:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17189531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarTravel/pseuds/StarTravel
Summary: After a day or so of blissful avoidance, things between Julian and Garak and between Julian and himself finally come to a head, all thanks to a bartender taking his drink order a bit too literally.





	Bittersweet Taste

Julian can’t help but grin to himself as he makes his way down the resort hallway, suspecting the sense of gratification he feels right now mirrors how Garak must have felt during successful spy missions. Garak is happy, or as happy as he ever is, warm smiles and quick affectionate looks between wary asides. And it’s all thanks to the little play Julian’s put on for him, a mask of enthusiasm and optimism so impeccably crafted that not even Garak sees through it.

And Julian has to admit there’s something refreshing about putting on his old self again, even if it’s not going to fit properly past this weekend. In some ways it’s easy to lose himself in delighting over new medical innovations and literary debates, to take care of Garak the way he always wanted to before, to believe that there’s a future that could be more than this war.

 Julian’s … he’s not that man anymore, but he almost wishes he were and he’s good enough at pretending to be to make Garak happy. That’s enough.

 And right now what that Julian would be doing would be bringing Garak and himself breakfast to have, once Garak gets back from his morning lounge on their rock. Fresh, unreplicated bread and something sweet to drink. He hasn’t has a good cup of tea since they left Deep Space 9. Julian carries his plate over to the counter, smiling brightly at a Trill, whose name tag reads Owlek. “Sir, what would you like?”

 “An honest cup of tea.” Julian answers with a bit of a laugh, shaking his head ruefully as the trill raises an eyebrow. A beat passes between them, the trill giving him a curious, almost appraising look. Julian meets his gaze as steadily as possible, nodding with as much authority as he can muster this early in the morning.

Owlek turns around and busies himself behind his counter, and much to Julian’s delight, he hears the familiar sound of tea brewing.

 “Here, one cup of Talerian tea, certain to make for an … _enlightening_ morning.” Owlek murmurs as he hands Julian the steaming mug, the scent almost intoxicating as it spreads through the air between them. Julian glances down at the rich plum liquid, almost sparkling in the early morning light of Risa’s sun. He brings the cup to his lips, not able to stop himself from downing nearly the entire cup once the sweet liquid hits his lips.

  “The Talerian blossom? I’ve never seen a cup of tea made with that particular flower before.” Julian’s lips tingle slightly as he sets the glass back down on the table, a strange but not at all unpleasant sensation running down his spine. He grins easily at the trill, leaning on the counter as Owlek widens his eyes slightly. “Is it native to Risa? I consider myself something of an expert on flora here and I’ve never heard of it.”

 “It's a truth serum.” Owlek’s voice is careful, wincing as he watches Julian’s eyes widen to a truly comical size. Julian swallows deep in his throat, bringing up one hand to bat at the flowering plant on the table. Owlek gives him a weak smile, wiggling his eyebrows as though this is all some kind of joke. “You asked for an _honest_ cup of tea, you gave me the nod and everything.”

 Julian thinks of a thousand different things shout at Owlek, because what kind of fool gives someone a truth serum without asking first? Julian takes a few deep breaths, palms flattening out on the counter as he meets Owlek’s gaze. “Truth serums don’t exist.”

 “Pedantic, aren’t you?” Owlek‘s tone is light and playful, and Julian gives him a flat look. The trill grimaces, holding his hands up in front of him, palms flat. “Fine, but it lowers your inhibitions and control, though not to an especially dangerous amount. Ones you might not even be aware of. It’s sadly not effective more than a few hours, but it does kick in rather quickly.”

 “Trust me when I say there’s nothing about myself I’m not aware of.” Julian snaps in a tight voice, hands shaking as he pushes the cup of tea back towards Owlek. He just bites back the snarl on the tip of his tongue, reminding himself that he needs to get back to the safety of his room. Julian knows too many federation and medical secrets to wait around the bar. “If you’ll excuse me.”

 Julian stumbles down the hallway and into their room, crossing his arms against his chest and letting out a sigh of relief now that he’s alone. He needs to think, to plan and - he’s not alone. Garak sits not on their rock but stands on the balcony, thin silk curtains framing him in the doorway.

Garak looks strangely beautiful like that, powerful. Julian licks his lips and then winces, because that feels like a sign the tea’s kicking in. “Garak? I thought you said you’d be on the beach.”

 “Actually my dear, I said I’d be lying in the sun and our balcony provides plenty of that.” Garak corrects him warmly, smiling as he twists around in the doorway, ridges pressing together slightly as he meets his gaze. Julian swallows audibly, hands shaking a little as he collapses onto the edge of the bed. Garak can read him like a book on the best of days, let alone when his inhibitions have been obliterated by bartenders reading too much in a twist of his neck.

 So much for pretending he hasn’t changed.

Julian takes a few deep breaths, trying to keep some sense of the moment. He can get through this, he just needs to keep his mouth shut for the next few hours. Even he can manage that. “Right, of course. I’m going to sit on our bed and pretend I’m working on my research so you won’t ask too many questions.”

 Apparently he can’t. Julian watches Garak saunter over towards him from the doorway, one eye ridge shifting as he gives Julian a pointed stare. Julian swallows, arms spreading out and hanging uselessly in the air, as though out of his control. Garak stops in front of Julian, glancing down at him and pressing his lips together in a not-quite smile. “Pretend?”

 “I haven’t been able to stay focused lately. Everything is just overwhelming.” Julian’s words spill out before he can stop them, voice bordering on a whine as anxiety and frustration overcomes him. Julian’s not used to being - he’s been overwhelmed before of course - but not by information, not by his _work_. That’s always been his salvation. But now every time he sits down to work on his research, his mind is overwhelmed with body counts and names and birthdays that won’t be celebrated this year.

 Garak walks over to him more quickly this time, the almost smile on his face fading away as his gaze takes on an air of wary concern. So much for giving Garak a nice vacation. “Julian?”

 “I mean - I’m fine or I should be fine because you don’t deserve this and you won’t go away and -” Julian manages to cut himself off by biting his tongue, swinging his arms in the air in frustration. He’s honestly shocked he doesn’t end up smacking Garak in the face, but he supposes his freed enhanced reflexes are good for something. Julian winces as he wraps his arms around his chest, biting his lip a bit as he glances up at Garak. “I accidentally drank a truth serum.”

 “How did you accidentally drink a truth serum?” Garak lets out a low, huffing noise as he sits down next to Julian, raising an eye ridge in clear disapproval. Julian shrugs helplessly, sliding his arms out to wrap his right hand around his left wrist tightly. It always seems to help Jadzia. Garak lets out a low breath, gaze going flat as he meets Julian’s eyes carefully. What do you mean, I won’t go away? Do you want me to?”

 “No, I never did! But it’s not safe for you. I’m not safe for you.” Julian cries before he can stop himself, grip on his wrist growing tighter as he cringes at his own words and the tremor in his voice. It’s not a revelation by any means, Julian knows what he has always been and what he’s become over the past year. Hell, so does Garak, even if he won’t admit it out loud.

 “Julian, what in Gul’s name are you talking about?” Garak’s voice is calm where Julian’s shakes, a hand coming down to clasp him on the shoulder. Julian doesn’t flinch, but he does stiffen his shoulders to try and keep them from trembling. Garak slides his other hand under his chin, tilting Julian’s head up so their eye to eye. “Is this about you shooting me?”

 “Yes and no.” Julian admits to himself as much as Garak. Julian doesn’t regret shooting Garak to save the rest of the crew. He regrets the things that make him the kind of man who would. “I’m a broken man and you’re not.”

 Garak’s eyes widen a bit at that and Julian can’t help the empty smirk that comes over his face, the hollow victory coursing through his veins at surprising Garak. Somehow it’s never in the way he wants. Garak pulls his right hand off of his wrist with a surprising tenderness, wrapping his own broader ones around his fingers instead. “My dear, most people would think the opposite.”

 “Most people aren’t as smart as us.” Julian spits out before he can stop himself, a slightly huffy quality overcoming his voice. Garak lowers an eye ridge, not quite able to keep himself from smirking even as Julian glowers at him. Garak’s always enjoyed this little moments where Julian lets himself be terrible in all the ways he usually tries to hide, arrogant and brilliant and reveling in it. There’s no celebration now though.

 “No, they’re not, but emotions have also never been your strong suit.” Garak’s voice is gentle as he continues to rub Julian’s hand, drawing small circles into the skin of his wrist. Julian winces at his words, gaze dropping to the floor as his shoulders slump in an almost exaggerated fashion.

 Julian knows that, has since he was little, never quite sure how to read a room or tones as well as everyone else, the clues always escaping him. Julian just never figures that could apply to his own feelings, always right there at the surface pushing at him. Julian looks up at Garak, licking his lip as he tries to think of something - anything to say that won’t make him sound as vulnerable as he feels right now. “I try very hard.”

 So much for that. Garak’s smile is painfully tender, touch feather soft as he reaches a hand up to cradle his jaw. Julian can’t bring himself to push him away. “I know you do, my dear.”

 Julian swallows audibly and closes his eyes, free hand clenching against the silk sheets. He digs his nails into the fabric, taking what comfort he can in the cool silk. Julian opens his eye, voice as controlled as he can manage under the circumstances. “You should go until this wears off. The bartender says it only lasts about 6 hours for most humans, which means it’s probably coming on stronger for me, but will be over in about four hours and 26 minutes and 13 seconds, give or take.”

 “I see.” Garak makes no move to go though, doesn’t even move his hand away from his jaw at first. Julian attempts to shoot him a heated look, but it crumbles under the weight of Garak’s careful stare. “Why do you want me to leave?”

 “I had a plan! I was going to give you the old Julian, the one who you want and I was pulling it off before this!” Julian cries before he can stop himself, his free hand grasping the sheets so tightly he’s surprised they don’t rip apart between his fingers. Garak squeezes his other hand, ridges digging into his palm and offering him a strange form of comfort. Julian looks up at him, words apologetic and defeated all at once. “I even almost believed it myself.”

 “And what exactly are you that the old Julian wasn’t?” Garak’s voice is still controlled and almost without emotion, expression not changing in the least even as Julian comes apart for what must be the 100th time in the past two months. It’s only a flicker in his gaze, a hopefulness Julian doesn’t understand in the least that pushes him to even try to answer.

All of the answers are on his lips, waiting to be formed. Cynical. Pragmatic. Cold. Empty. Apathetic and heartless, a bitter visage of what Julian Bashir tried to be. None of those slide off his tongue though, the word that comes out instead making his own eyes widen. “A failure.”

 “Julian?” Garak’s voice stays calm, and if the word surprises him as much as it does Julian, he doesn’t give any sign. Instead he squeezes his hand more tightly, his other arm coming to wrap around his shoulder, thumb dipping into his clavicle. Julian shudders and let’s himself lean into Garak’s arms, even though he shouldn’t, when he has no right. Garak is brilliant and precious and he doesn’t deserve someone like Julian, who tries so hard to be better than everyone and doesn’t even manage to be anything near acceptable these days. “What do you mean?”

 Julian‘s voice is tremulous and weak when he tries to speak, contrite and angry and something else Julian’s almost forgotten he feels. “I couldn’t save them, Garak. The people on Ajion Prime, god knows how many of Starfleet officers and Klingon warriors, hell even the Jem H’adar.”

 “My dear, you seem to be forgetting all the lives you _have_ saved. I’m sure if you asked your fellow crew members, they’d remember more of those.” Garak’s voice isn’t gentle this time, firm and bordering on lecturing as he wraps his arms more tightly around his chest and wrist. Julian feels touched by that, the familiarity of that tone, memories of lunch dates and playful debates in the sickbay flickering across his mind. “I’m surprised you don’t.”

 “But I’m not like them, I’m like you!” Julian’s voice comes out too loud, too earnest for the man he’s become or thought he’d become, the sound reverberating across the room and slapping him across the face. Garak merely raises an eye ridge, tilting his head up a bit so they’re eye to eye again. “I mean - Cardassians remember everything. So do I. Every name, every file, every terrified, hopeful gaze I let down. I can see them all just as clearly as on the day they died.”

 Julian lets out a shuddering breath and squeezes Garak’s hand as names and injuries flash across his mind in an order far too neat for the messy reality they represent. Garak’s voice is measured when he speaks, touch a bit firmer than before. “Julian, you can’t save everyone.”

 “What’s the point of me if I can’t?” Julian’s voice comes out clipped despite himself, annoyance with himself and desolation mixing together in his gaze as he looks up at Garak. He wants so badly to help and he’s never - before Ajion Prime, he always, always _could_. There were close calls and frustrations, but Julian’s never felt this helpless before, life after life lost no matter how hard he tries or how _smart_ he is.

 “To do the _best_ you can with what you have.” Garak whisper into his hair as Julian presses his face into Garak’s chest, wishing he could take some kind of comfort in his words. The best means nothing if it doesn’t help, if it doesn’t keep new stress lines from forming on Miles’ brow or ensign Tolbar’s chest from caving in on him, rib by rib disintegrating into ash.

“And you accuse me of platitudes.” Julian mutters as Garak suddenly lets go of his hand to press a finger to his forehead, gaze amused and chiding all at once. Julian just avoids rolling his eyes, because leave it to Garak to somehow guess his every thought and judge him for them.

 “I borrowed it from one of Your Federation novels.” Garak’s voice comes out kinder than Julian expects, patient in a way that feels oddly familiar even if it’s never been directed at _him_ before. Julian can’t stop himself from grasping the hand still tapping his forehead, entwining their fingers together as though to protect himself from all the names and images that keep threatening to spill out across his mind again. So far Garak’s proving to be better comfort than forced apathy. “You just realized I was right about how little you’ve changed, didn’t you?”

Julian actually hasn’t been thinking about that debate before now, but now the obviousness of it hits him and he almost laughs at the absurdity of it all. All these weeks he’s spent so sure that his old self was gone, so positive his newfound depression was the first steps to apathy and pragmatism. Instead it’s his own familiar arrogance and need to save everyone that led him here.

 And of course, as it’s always been between them, Garak understood the truth of things long before he did. And this time, it’s Garak who’s patiently waited for Julian and taken care of him while Julian worked his way to the truth (he suspects he would’ve gotten here sans truth serum, but it might have taken him another day or two). All just because Garak cares about him. It’s not the same as when Garak had the implant in his brain, but it’s close enough to make Julian’s stomach twist in ways that are delightful and painful all at once.

 Julian exhales and closes his eyes, lifting their entwined hands to his mouth and pressing a few soft kisses to Garak’s knuckles. Julian looks up at him then, eyes shining as a sense of certainty sets in. “Garak, I’m sorry.”

 “I know, my dear.” Garak sits up a little higher and Julian shifts forward so he’s half on the bed and half on Garak’s right thigh. Garak presses their foreheads together and squeezes his his hand, the pressure perfect and making Julian let out a low sigh. “And I forgive you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know if you think I need to tag anything else. 
> 
> Questions? Comments? :D


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